


My Father's Boy

by EllieCee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, High School, Homophobia, M/M, Racism, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School American AU where they all live in a small town. </p>
<p>It's senior year, and they're pushing established boundaries of first love, with consequences. Some more than they bargained for. </p>
<p>Mostly Ziall with a side of Payzer. Background Elounor and Haroline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Early Morning Cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> I first wrote this as a Ziam [here](http://1dkindofslash.tumblr.com), but I thought it'd be best fit as Ziall, so I rewrote it. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Niall wants a damn electric clock, damn it.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Greg’s voice is faint downstairs and he’s going on about some bullshit to some girl. Poor girl, because Greg can be the biggest shit sometimes.  
He wants his mama home, and he hasn’t thought anything like that for a while. He just feels these stupid pangs in his chest and he wants his mama around. But she’s off with that man named Deacon somewhere.

It’s really freezing cold in Niall’s room, and he’s wondering when the hell Deacon’s going to fix his insulation. He promised weeks ago, but he hasn’t. Maybe that’s why Niall should let his mama keep Deacon around. To fix insulation.

Yes that’s good.

He gets up from his bed and walks over to his closet. He digs through heavy piles of clothes, and he finds his dad’s old coat and he puts it on. It’s scratchy and old, and the plaid’s faded. But it’s warm, and takes too much time hiding it from his mama so she won’t throw it away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  
The sun’s rising outside the window and Niall’s room is turning bright orange. Greg’s lady is still downstairs and Niall wants to tell her to go home and punch Greg in the teeth because Greg’s a piece of shit anyway.

“I used to pitch for Rockford High, you know?” He can hear Greg say. The girl’s laughing.

No you didn’t.

You got benched early in the season for getting wasted on the first game.

Niall wraps himself tighter in the coat, and he swears he can smell his dad’s woody hands. He’s tired but he can’t sleep and he thanks Jesus it’s Saturday. The tips of his fingers are so cold he feels like they’re about to fall off.

He sees his phone lights up in the corner, and he rushes to it. He wishes it’s his mama, or maybe Zayn because he just likes talking to Zayn.  
But it’s an alert from his high school talking about the first football game. He probably wouldn’t give ten fucks if Harry and Liam didn’t play; it wasn’t too interesting for him.

He hears Greg and the girl getting busy and he doesn’t want to think about it because right after it he knows what happens. Greg’s going to treat that girl like garbage and Niall doesn’t understand why.

He wants a smoke and he wants to sit on the front lawn, but he doesn’t want to walk by Greg and his woman.

But he thinks fuck it, cause it’s Saturday and he feels weird and can’t sleep.

He opens the bottom of his piggy bank and takes out a stick. He tiptoes downstairs with some kind of stupid hope that Greg won’t see him. Greg has his face smashed into the girl’s and his hands on her chest, so Niall rushes out as fast as he can.

When he slams the door he hears Greg yell but he ignores it and sits down on the grass. It’s wet from dew, and now his thighs are damp and cold, but he’s not going back inside.

He lights the cigarette and watches the run rays hit his skin. His mama would tell him to put on some sunscreen because his baby pink skin would burn. But he always tells her he’s “18 now” and she doesn’t have to worry about him anymore. But for some reason now he wishes she’s here because he feels weird.  
Maybe his dad could come back too, but that’s a different, far-fetched wish.

He takes a long drag and lets the smoke out, staring up at the now, growing-blue sky; he sees a glare in his eyes, then a shadow. He almost jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder and falls back.

It takes him a moment to get everything together, and now he’s dizzy, fuck it.

It’s Liam, and he’s standing over him, and he smells sweaty but sweet.

His lips are swollen.

“Liam, the fuck?”

Liam sits in front of him. There’s a weird brightness in his eyes, like he just won the goddamned lottery.

“Hi,” Liam says, and his voice is melty and weird.

“What?” Niall asks. The dampness on his thighs are starting to get annoying.

“I’m in love, Niall,” Liam says. Niall scrunches his face at him because he’s talking crazy.

Niall smacks his head and Liam just laughs. It’s Saturday morning and Liam should be getting ready for football practice, but he’s sitting on Niall’s porch, swirly headed and kind of loony.

“With who, now?” Niall asks, taking another drag from the cigarette.

Liam coughs.

“Danielle,” Liam says dreamily, “Danielle.”

“Peazer?” Niall asks.

“Yes,” Liam says.

Danielle’s the really pretty cheerleader girl, with the brown curls and the nice eyes. And Liam’s been infatuated and ridiculous and maybe something happened now. But that would’ve been weird because -

“Your dad let you see her?” Niall asks, putting out the cigarette on the damp grass.

“No,” Liam says, and his face turns dark, like someone slapped the living shit out of him.

“Then what happened?” Niall asks.

Liam sighs and plays with the grass.

“Told them I was sleeping over Har’s,” Liam says, “I met with her and took her to dinner. And then we went to the field and we just chilled and it was nice. But we fell asleep and it was like four when we woke up and I took her home and now…”

Liam’s talking fast, and he’s spitting all over Niall. He needs to go home and brush his teeth, but then again, so does Niall.

“Shit,” Niall says, “So go home now.”

“I can’t,” Liam says, “I told them I was going to football practice with Harry.”

“Go to Harry’s,” Niall says. He loves Liam to death but he doesn’t feel like dealing with Liam’s shit.

“I can't,” Liam says, “I hid my stuff under your stoop so it looked like I was sleeping over Harry’s.”

Niall tosses the cigarette behind him.

“Why not drop it at Harry’s?” Niall says, as he watches Liam dig out his duffel bag in the garden corner.

“Because,” Liam says, struggling to peel the paneling off, “I was just going to head straight to practice.”

Niall wants another cigarette, damn it, but he only has two left in his piggy bank and he’s trying to make it last until Monday. Mondays are horrible.

“But you reek,” Niall says. Liam smirks at him.

“Do I smell that bad?” Liam asks.

Niall wrinkles his nose. “You smell like grass, sweat, and your breath is stale. You’re gonna smell worse after practice,” Niall says.

“Let me shower at your house,” Liam asks.

Niall can only imagine what Greg’s doing now. He thanks the heavens he can’t hear anything outside.

“Greg has a booty call inside,” Niall says.

Liam groans. “Please Niall?”

Niall doesn’t feel like using energy to sneak Liam in, but he does anyway because Liam would moan about it.

The TV’s on when the tiptoe inside and Niall makes Liam hold his muddy sneakers, and they pass the couch, and Greg’s under the blankets with the girl. They’re watching TV, and there’s something on the news, something about murder, and Greg’s laughing at it like the shit he is.

They almost make it to the top of the steps when Greg whips his head around, the girl screams and hides herself in Greg’s chest. Niall knows Greg’s about to scream bloody murder at him because his face turning ridiculously red.

“You little fucker!” Greg says.

Niall thinks about throwing Liam’s shoes at him. But Liam’s beside him, silent and frozen, gripping the muddy sneakers hard in his hands.

“What, Liam needs a shower?” Niall says. The girl’s red as anything, almost as red as Greg.

“I have someone over!” Greg shouts. The girl yelps, and Liam’s eyes widen.

“Liam doesn’t care,” Niall says, he feels exhausted, and he wishes Greg would just let it go so Liam can get a shower.

Greg chucks something at them, and screams something nasty that gives a blunt punch to Niall’s stomach. He shrugs it off because Greg is a douche anyway and tosses Liam his things.

Liam heads for the bathroom and Niall heads for his room. He hears Greg rambling downstairs and he blocks it out because he doesn’t like it when he hears nasty things that makes him sick. He sighs and climbs on his bed, and now he actually feels tired, and he thinks fuck it, because it’s 7:30 now. His phone lights up in the corner and it’s Zayn, and that kind of makes him feel better.

_‘you goin to practice with em’_

Niall thinks it’s ridiculous that he’s smiling. He wants to go back to bed because, he feels pretty damn comfortable lying down right now, but he wants to see Zayn and he doesn’t really know why.

  
_‘yep’_

  
He presses send and thinks about getting at least fifteen minutes of shut eye, but he hears the bathroom door creak open and Liam yells, saying that he doesn’t have a towel.


	2. Unexpected Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah sorry I haven't updated this in months, I just lost motivation an inspiration. But now I finally mustered up a chapter, I hope you enjoy.

The bleachers are cold and hard on winter mornings, but Niall’s use to it. He thinks he should have worn two pairs of pants, but he rushed out the door when Zayn had told him he was outside his house.

“Look at Har,” Louis cackles.

Harry is nothing but a flailing wreck in the field. His damn noodly arms swishing around him when he runs. Not just that, he can’t keep a football in his hands. He can’t run and hold a football at the same time. Bless that boy, Niall thinks.

“He should quit,” Zayn says, laughing. Niall knows it’s a real laugh because there’s a heavy, warm feeling that comes with it. Niall can tell when Zayn’s faking a laugh or not. Niall doesn’t know why he pays attention to Zayn so much, he just does, and maybe, he thinks, it’s a little weird.

“Styles!” the coach yells. Harry’s trudging now, and Niall doesn’t understand why in Lord’s name Harry wants to go on throwing footballs and tripping over his own cleats.

While Coach yells at Harry, Niall looks for Liam, who should be out there running ass off. He scans the field and spots that kid Samuels, Andrew Samuels, some real sack of shit Liam talks to. Then there was the Josh kid, he was real short, but if Liam doesn’t get his crap together, Josh could become the star quarterback.

“Liam ain’t there,” Louis says, chewing his gum loudly. Nothing rattles Niall’s nerves like that teeth-smacking sound of chewing gum.

Zayn squints his eyes and scans the field himself. “Where’d he go?”

Niall shrugs. Niall has a feeling, because he saw the pretty girl Danielle walking in the parking lot. But he doesn’t know whether or not the Danielle subject was something he should bring up.

Back on the field, Harry’s heaving, his face the color of tomatoes and his hair like a plate of spaghetti. The Samuels kid elbows him, and pretends it wasn’t on purpose. Harry sighs and carries on. Niall thinks he should try to convince Harry to quit, because he hates this whole football shit.

“There’s the little fuck,” Louis says suddenly. Liam’s wiping his lips, as he walks out from the corner of the bleachers. Niall tries to look for Danielle but he can’t find her. Liam jogs nonchalantly with the team, and Niall swears to frickin’ Jesus coach saw, but of course, coach doesn’t say a word.

“What was he doing?” Zayn says, scrunching his brows.

“Probably, jacking off,” Louis says.

Then, they see Harry trip again. And this time, coach screams at him to get the hell out of the field because this is just the warm up and he’s just embarrassing. Niall feels bad for him.

_____

Harry is the worst after practice. He’s a miserable little turd, according to Liam. But Liam has no room to talk, Louis always says. Coach ain’t a prick to him.

They go to Louis’ and Liam makes some peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Harry’s too miserable to eat it, so he sits and mumbles under his breath while he watches some dumb infomercial about a waffle maker.

“Y’all goin’ to prom” Louis asks, his mouth full of peanut butter. It’s gross Niall, thinks.

“I think I gotta,” Zayn says, picking his sandwich apart, “I’m part of the decorating committee.”

Niall thinks Zayn eats sandwiches weird. He never eats it as a sandwich, he always pulls it apart and he almost always eats the one with less filling on first. It’s like the sandwich is an Oreo cookie.

“How ‘bout you Li?” Louis asks.

Liam’s done his sandwich already. Liam’s a garbage disposal after practice.

“Yeah, prob’lly. I’m goin’ with someone.”

“Who Louis asks?”

Liam shifts his plate uncomfortably.

“Danielle.”

It’s quiet for a bit, long enough for Harry to snap out of his bad mood for a minute. Louis looks at Liam, slightly bug-eyed, peanut butter dripping from the side of his mouth.

“Danielle? As in Dani Peazer?” Zayn asks, picking a banana off his plate.

Liam nods. He gives them a half-hearted smile.

“Your dad-” Louis starts.  
“I know,” Liam replies. Louis doesn’t even need to finish his sentence.

“We went out last night,” Liam says suddenly.

Louis’ eyes grow bigger, and Zayn stares at him intently.

Liam sighs. “I told my daddy I was stayin’ over Har’s. I hid my clothes and football crap under the loose paneling in Niall’s house. Me and Dani went to go catch a movie, then we went to the field and we kinda fell asleep there. Then I drove her home and took a shower at Ni’s house.”

“Shit,” Zayn says. “Whatcha gonna do, Li?”

“I don’t know,” Liam says, fiddling with his thumbs, “I really like her you know, she’s a nice gal.”

Liam doesn’t like to look like he wants to cry, so he does this weird thing with his face. Louis puts a hand on his shoulder, and so does Zayn.

They don’t really know what to say, so they watch TV until Harry’s in a good mood and he drags them all to Rosie’s Diner.

_____

Louis orders pancakes no matter what time of day. Zayn asks him why he can’t just make it himself, but he says nobody makers pancakes like Rosie’s.

Liam gets some steak, “bulking up on protein” he says. Harry gets mac and cheese because Harry only eats three things: mac and cheese, peanut butter and banana, and ice cream. Louis is happy with a fluffy stack of those goddamned buttermilk pancakes. Niall gets the rigatoni and he shares with Zayn because Zayn doesn’t have any money to spare. He gets the rigatoni with chicken because Zayn doesn’t eat pork.

Harry takes ten fucking years to eat mac and cheese because he eats it macaroni by macaroni. Louis practically inhales his pancakes; he says his girlfriend Eleanor’s sick of him getting pancakes every time they go out to eat.

“How are you gonna take Dani to prom?” Harry asks, as he nibbles on a piece of macaroni.

“I’m just gonna, I dunno,” Liam says, chewing on a slice of steak, “I figured we’d cross the bridge when we get there.”

“Ya got five months to formulate something,” Zayn says, accidentally bumping elbows with Niall.

“Maybe you guys can go on a double date with me and El, and your dad’ll see it’s fine. El’s friends with her,” Louis says.  
“No, my dad don’t care,” Liam says.

Chuck Berry’s “Maybellene” blasts faintly in the air, suddenly. Harry drops his fork and fumbles with his phone. When he sees the screen, his face changes, like someone had flipped a switch.

“I gotta go,” Harry says, pulling out a wad of fives from his pocket. He slams the wad on the table, change rolling and clinking on the floor.

Before Niall could ask, the diner door swishes open, then close, and Harry’s gone.

Louis picks up the change, and Zayn gives them a questioning look. Liam and Niall reply with a clueless face.

Louis makes a crack about Harry being a werewolf, but nobody finds it funny, so Louis just picks on his pancake crumbles.

Niall thinks maybe Harry is off his rocker.

_____

Liam went off with Danielle and Louis went to go over Eleanor’s.

Niall and Zayn have been there for more than three hours and Niall wonders why nobody’s tried to kick them out yet. They’re done the rigatoni but they have no money for a rootbeer float or a banana split, so they sit there. Niall would really like a banana split though.

“Remember when those chairs would spin?” Zayn says, pointing to the bright red chairs by the booth.

Niall smiles.

“Yeah,” Niall says, “We used to go here, the two of us and just start spinnin’.”

“Remember that one time,” Zayn says, “You had a whole banana split then you spun and spun and hurled.”

Niall laughs. “Remember Miss Rita? She would always watch me then.”

“Why did you eat all that banana split again?” Zayn asks.

“Because I was sad,” Niall says, “I came cryin’ to your house and your mama gave you money and told you to go get me ice cream.”

“Right,” Zayn adds, “You were ten, and that was when -”

Niall feels his stomach go sour. “Yeah, when mama and daddy...”

Zayn looks at him, bright hazel eyes and all.

“Sorry,” Zayn says. They’re quiet for a minute until Zayn says “So, how are you an that Amy girl doin’?”

Niall stretches his arms. “We went for ice cream, then bowled. We made out in Greg’s car.”

Zayn laughs, but it doesn’t come with that warm and heavy feeling.

“How ‘bout you?” Niall asks, “Any ladies?”

Zayn looks out the window and sighs. Outside, the snow’s falling fast, and coming on thick. Mrs. Carter, the lady who owns the book shop next door is stomping in the streets, mumbling about something.

“Nothing really,” Zayn says, with a half-assed smile, “They don’t want no brown boy. You know they don’t. They say I’m cute and all, but they’ll never go with a brown boy. Their daddies are all like Liam.”

Niall manages a sympathetic smile. “Someone’s gonna like you enough to tell their dad off.”

Zayn chuckles. “Nah. Shada likes me though, I hear. She’s half Filipino I think. Her parents like me because I mow their lawn for them.”

Niall knows Shada. She’s the girl next door from Zayn, and the Samuels kid and his crew used to give her a lot of shit. Her and Zayn. For her it was the ching chong jokes, and for Zayn it was those sickening 9/11 ones.

“Ask her out to prom,” Niall says.

“I dunno,” Zayn replies.

They hear Miss Rita’s footsteps approaching.

“Boys, we’re closin’ soon. Y’all would wanna get home anyways. It’s supposed to blizzard tonight,” she says.

Zayn and Niall nod and head out. The diner’s lights close as they make their way onto the main street, gusts of snow falling on them.  
_____

Zayn pulls Niall along, and Niall feels his palms sweat. It’s probably negative something degrees, and sometimes it fucking sucks living somewhere where lights turn off after eleven.

They reach Zayn’s street, and Niall follows the trail of bright window lights until he’s sure they’re in the cul-de-sac Zayn’s house stands. Zayn knocks and Niall hears Boris’ faint barking.

Waliyha opens the door, clad in layers of sweaters, Boris’ collar in her hand. Boris looks like he’s smiling.

“Hurry in, you’re letting the warm out,” Waliyha says, blizzard wind brushing her hair against her face.

Niall follows Zayn in, and he feels his blood start to flow again inside the warm house. He hears Mrs. Malik call Zayn in the distance.

Niall shrugs the snow off his coat and plops himself down on the couch. Boris jumps on his knees and starts licking his face.

It’s nice and warm in the Maliks’ house. There’s a dim orange light, and you can hear the soft buzzing of the heater. The TV is on, volume on low. It’s the local news station. Some man is interviewing one of the store owners down the main street. Niall likes the Maliks’ house. It’s less cold than his own. He thinks about how Deacon promised he’d fix the insulation but never did.

Mrs. Malik enters the room, and smiles at Niall. It makes Niall miss his mama a little bit. He figures she and that damn Deacon’ll end up getting stuck wherever they are for at least one more night.

“Is Maura home yet?” she asks.

Niall shakes his head.

“Well, do you want to stay for dinner? Yaser and I made some butter chicken.”

“We already ate, it’s all right,” Niall says.

Mrs. Malik looks at Zayn. “Did you make Niall pay for you again?”

Niall wants to laugh.

“No mama,” Zayn says, “He insisted."

Zayn’s cheeks are turning pink

“Oh Niall,” Mrs. Malik says, “You pay for Zayn too often. Are you sure you don’t want any dinner? We have cake. Help yourself to anything.”

Niall smiles again. “It’s all right, Mrs. Malik. Thank you.”

“You’re paying him back, Zayn Javadd,” Mrs. Malik says under her breath.

“I will, mom, I will,” Zayn says. Mrs. Malik then gives Zayn a kiss. She gives Niall a kiss too and Niall really wishes his mama was home.

“Are you sleeping over, Niall?” Mrs. Malik asks.

Niall suddenly remembers Greg and the poor girl he called over. He looks outside and he’s met with wintery chaos. The wind is blowing and howling violently, the snow thicker than it was when he and Zayn left Rosie’s diner. Niall digs for his phone, and there’s one message from Greg:

“when u comin home little fuck i got friends over”

He doesn’t reply because he knows they’re getting drunk and cursing over politics right now. He’ll deal with Greg in the morning, because staying at the Maliks tonight sounds better than dragging his ass back to a house of drunk pricks.

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

Zayn tugs at his arm and they run up the stairs.

“Night mama,” Zayn calls out.

Boris is sitting on Zayn’s bed, and Zayn shoos him off. He picks up a sheet of wrinkled paper, a sketch on it.

“What’s that?” Niall asks.

Zayn smooths the paper out and puts it on his bedside stand. “Shada wanted a picture of Pikachu.”

Zayn walks over to his closet and tosses Niall an NAL shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” Zayn says, “You don’t wanna sleep in jeans.”

Niall laughs and picks up the shirt and pants. Zayn pulls off his shirt and Niall notices the way his back curves. He’s staring at it for a minute, until Zayn turns around and Niall hurriedly puts on his change of clothes. His chest feels warm, but he shrugs off the feeling and climbs on Zayn’s bed. Zayn plops beside him a few moments later and shuts off the lamp. He pulls the blanket over them and sighs.

“Feels good to lie down,” Zayn whispers.

Niall is looking at Zayn’s ceiling. It was one of those bumpy, oatmeal-like ceilings. Zayn told him it’s called a “popcorn ceiling”. Deacon told him the proper name for it; it’s something like “stucky” or “stuck-o” or something stupid like that. He and Zayn used to stick stickers up there, but they’d never stick, except for the Katara sticker near the window. It’s still there, all faded and discolored.

“Yeah, it’s warm here,” Niall replies. He can hear the rhythm of Zayn’s heart. Niall thinks he should really text Greg, but he hates Greg’s ass, so he lets Zayn’s breathing lull him to sleep.


End file.
